


I Could Learn to Like Cake

by tucuxia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14563890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tucuxia/pseuds/tucuxia
Summary: "So, Dean, after eating pie all of your life, how does cake taste?" Season 13





	I Could Learn to Like Cake

**I Could Learn to Like Cake**

 

Dean slammed into the motel room, tossing his bag on the table as he took a quick inventory of the furniture.  They had two queen beds, a desk, a small table between the beds, a television, a small fridge, a decent-sized couch, and a closet.  It was actually one of the nicer places they had stayed, thanks to Sam’s newly acquired proficiency with online booking websites.  The carpets and blankets were clean, the walls were painted a pleasantly neutral color, and the drapes over the window added an agreeably homey touch rather than simply darkening the room.

“Sam, let’s get cleaned up.  After a hunt like that, I’m feeling the need for a nice relaxing night at a bar.  That one you pointed out on the way up should do nicely.  Cas, Jack; you are welcome to stay here or come with us.”

The angel and Nephilim exchanged a look, Cas placing his bag carefully on the desk before answering.  “I believe that we will accompany you.”

“Fine.  I have a new fake ID for Jack in my bag somewhere that he can use when they card him.  While you’re in there, find yourself some jeans and a tshirt and my backup jacket.”

Cas looked down at his suit and trench coat, pretty much the only thing he had ever worn on Earth excluding the brief time he spent as a human.  “What is wrong with my outfit?”

Dean pointed one finger at the angel, furrowing his brows.  “For hunting and FBI work, nothing, but I am not taking a holy tax accountant to a bar.  For once, it won’t kill you to blend in.”

Cas nodded obediently, waiting for Dean to head into the bathroom before opening his bag.  He was able to find the fake ID quickly, handing it to the Nephilim as he searched for a pair of jeans and a shirt.  Sam leaned over, having already changed his own shirt and overshirt, grabbing a simple black tshirt out of his brother’s bag and a blue flannel to go with it.  He handed them to Cas and smiled, heading out to the car to bring in the rest of their supplies so the angel could change in private. 

Jack placed his backpack on the couch and checked his clothes for any grime or mess from the day’s hunt, waiting patiently as Cas stripped down to his boxers and slipped into the borrowed jeans.  Thankfully, he and Dean were the same height, since Sam’s pants would never have fit him, though the tshirt was slightly larger than Cas needed.  The flannel fit relatively well, Jack admiring the color as Cas finished the look with Dean’s extra leather jacket.  The hunter had learned long ago to carry a relatively large wardrobe on his hunts, especially when they were chasing messy monsters like vampires and werewolves.

Sam returned to the room as Dean emerged from the bathroom, the former nodding in approval of the angel’s outfit while the latter froze for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face.  “You look good, Cas.”  Cas ducked his head, an almost human reaction to the compliment, and Dean reached out to mess up his hair.  “There you go, all relaxed.  Ready to go?”

Sam watched the interaction with one raised eyebrow, meeting Jack’s amused glance across the room as the elder hunter and his angel filed out of the room.  Dropping the bags of supplies he had gathered from the car, Sam grabbed his wallet and followed them, closing the door as Jack slipped out.

The drive to the bar was relatively quiet, Cas watching Dean in the rearview mirror and the hunter completely ignoring him, as usual.  The bar itself was pretty vibrant and well-lit compared to the dives they usually frequented, Dean finding them a table near the stage in the back.  He ordered them a round of beers, both hunters managing to keep a straight face as the months-old Nephilim convinced the waitress that he was of legal age to purchase and consume alcohol.  When the waitress walked away, Sam laughed.

“Jack, you can’t say ‘purchase and consume alcohol’.  You sound like an undercover police officer.  Or someone with a fake ID.  Just stick with ‘have a beer’ and you’ll sound a lot more natural.  And convincing.”

“Okay, Sam.”

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, furtively watching Cas pulling at the edges of his jacket and adjusting his sleeves.  The waitress returned with their drinks few minutes later, eyeing Jack suspiciously as she placed the beers on the table, the Nephilim wisely holding his tongue.  They went through the first round in silence, each of them unwinding from the hard hunt in their own way.  By the third round of beers and the first round of shots, all four were more open, joking about one of the witnesses they had interviewed and her reaction to Jack’s role as the agent-in-training.  A flutter of activity on the dark stage behind them caught Cas’s attention, and he reached out to touch Dean’s sleeve.

“What is going on, Dean?”

“Hmm?  Oh, it looks like karaoke.”  Cas’s reply was a confused tilt of his head, which Dean understood as a request for an explanation.  “People get up and sing along to popular songs, usually when very drunk.  They tend to enjoy it.”

“What songs?”

“I mean, whatever you want.  They have a database of songs and the lyrics will show up on the monitor for people who may not know all of the words.  Depending on the crowd, it could be a lot of pop songs or a ton of Disney.”

“Do they sing rock songs?  Like the ones on your radio?”

Dean shrugged.  “Yeah, people sing those, too.  Thankfully we’re not in the South or it would be all country music.  If it gets too annoying, we can leave.”

“No, I want to stay.”  Cas watched the stage intently as he finished another beer, blue eyes wide with anticipation.  Dean glanced up at the people milling around near the stage, shaking his head as he finished his own beer and glanced up for the waitress, trying to decide if they should go for more beer or another round of shots.  “I think it would be fun to do.”

Sam reached over and placed a hand on Jack’s arm as the Nephilim opened his mouth to agree with Cas, the hunter shaking his head and nodding toward Dean.  His brother turned sideways in his chair to face the angel, offering him a half-frown of disapproval.  “I did it a few times when I was a demon.  It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Maybe it will be more fun for an angel than a demon,” Cas countered smartly, a thread of his trademark sass in his voice.  “Why don’t you want me to try?”

“Cas, you don’t sing along to any of my music in the car, and I’m pretty sure you only even know the names of, like, thirteen songs.  What would you even sing?  Can you sing?”

Cas hung his head and looked back at the table.  “I don’t know.  It just seems like one of those things I should experience.”  Something seemed to click in his mind, and Cas looked up at Dean eagerly.  “But you know all the words to every song we hear in your car, Dean.  You could do it.  You could sing karaoke.”

“Cas, I don’t sing.”

“Sure you do,” Jack piped up.  “I hear you in the shower sometimes.  You’re pretty good.”

Dean turned to the Nephilim and glared, desperately trying to ignore the eager angel trying to get his attention.  “Jack, you’re like six months old.  How would you know what good singing sounds like?”

“Why don’t we have a little bet, then?”  Sam caught the waitress’s eye, smiling as she returned to the table.  “We’ll all do Irish Car Bombs, and the winner gets to decide if Dean goes on stage to sing or not.”

“Dude, how is that fair?  That’s three to one.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never lost before, to me or anyone else, and I’m sure these guys have never done them.  You have a pretty good chance of winning.  Otherwise Cas and Jack won’t leave you alone about karaoke all night.”

Dean glanced around the table, two eager faces and one suspiciously calm one watching him.  “Okay fine.  Bring us four Irish Car Bombs please.”

The waitress was already skeptical about their copious alcohol intake, but none of the men were acting drunk yet or slurring their words.  “You’ve already had quite an impressive amount of drinks.  Are you sure you can handle more?”

“It takes a great deal of alcohol for the debilitating effects to become apparent,” Cas replied smoothly, his clear blue eyes turning up toward their waitress.

“You might say we’re professional drinkers,” Dean added, smiling disarmingly at the woman.

“Right.  Okay, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as all four beers and shots were sitting on the table, Dean lifted his shot glass and held it over his beer.  “So you take the Bailey’s and drop it in your beer on the count of three.  Then we all chug as fast as we can and the winner gets to decide my fate.  You got it?”

Jack nodded quickly and grabbed his shot, Cas following hesitantly.  He seemed concerned about the contest but determined to compete correctly.  As soon as all four men were in position, Dean counted down from three.  Shots fell into glasses, beers were raised to mouths, and one empty glass was quickly slammed back onto the table just loudly enough to _clunk_.

Dean brought his down second, staring in shock at the deceptively innocent angel watching him, pride in those crystal blue eyes.  “You beat me.”  Sam and Jack finished moments later, eagerly watching the exchange.  “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

“Sam taught me last night while you were busy.  Since I don’t get drunk the same way as you, I was able to do it multiple times until I learned the correct technique.  He said that I would need that skill very soon.”  Cas was clearly immensely proud of having applied his training correctly.

Dean turned to face his brother, anger at being manipulated warring with amazement at the level of deviousness the plan had taken.  “You tricked me.  You knew that we would go out tonight, and you even knew that this bar would have karaoke.  And then you trained _my angel_ to beat me in car bombs.”

Years ago, Sam would have been offended on Cas’s behalf for Dean’s words that made the angel sound like a misbehaving dog.  However, so much exposure to the pair’s “profound bond” had convinced the younger hunter that Cas secretly welcomed Dean’s overprotective attitude and the possessive way he talked about the angel to others.  As a matter of fact, Sam was sure he had seen Cas’s eyes light up at “my angel”. 

“Well, I knew it would be tonight or later this week.  I’m not a psychic, after all.”  There was a very, very old joke there, but Dean was too irritated to take note of it.

“It’s manipulative!”

“Cas really wanted to hear you sing, Dean; I told him that you had done it before when you were demon buddies with Crowley.  If you can do it in front of the King of Hell, you can do it in front of your angel.  Besides, you’d never back out of a bet.”

Dean worked his jaw, glaring at his brother a little longer before turning to the angel.  “You knew what karaoke was before we came here.”  Cas nodded.  Of course he did; pop culture was actually pretty easy for him to grasp since his sojourn as a human.  Dean sometimes forgot that and fell into his old habit of explaining things to the angel. 

“You knew that I wouldn’t let you sing and Sam told you that there was a way to trick me into singing.”  The angel nodded again hesitantly, glancing hopefully at the stage before offering Dean his best puppy-dog eyes.  The hunter realized now that hesitation when holding his shot had nothing to do with trying to follow the rules of the game, but rather an anticipation of putting his training to good use.

The hunter finally relented, reaching out and clapping a hand on Cas’s shoulder.  “That was a good con.  I’m proud of you.”  And with that he was gone, moving to stand in queue at the bottom of the stage with the small group of patrons waiting patiently.

Sam grinned as he flagged the waitress down to order another round of beers and some loaded nachos, watching as Dean reached the front of the line and started looking through the songs available.  He frowned at the first few pages, his green eyes softening as he apparently found one that he liked.  He looked up at Cas, smiling softly before turning back to the machine and clicking on one of the songs, that satisfied look never fading.

Sam straightened in his seat, a nacho chip halfway to his mouth as his hazel eyes focused on his older brother.  Something had changed, shifted within the older hunter, and Sam had this near-premonition sensation as his brother took the stage.  He felt a sudden urge to warn Cas about this nebulous feeling, but the raven-haired angel was already watching the hunter with an almost rapturous expression on his face.  Dean raised the mic to his lips as the first chords of the song rang out from the speakers, and Sam almost died of shock right then and there.

_I can’t fight this feeling any longer_   
_And yet I’m still afraid to let it flow_   
_What started out as friendship, has grown stronger_   
_I only wish I had the strength to let it show_

Castiel was an angel, older than almost any being in the universe besides his remaining siblings, and he rarely allowed any emotion to show on his face or through his body language.  Despite his age and intense military training, his bright azure eyes widened in shock at the song Dean had chosen.  The hunter couldn’t meet his eyes, and Sam knew that he was afraid his emotions would overcome him if he looked at the angel.  Sam had rarely seen his brother so open, so willing to express his deepest feelings, and that tingle of near-clairvoyance sang in the back of his mind.

  
_I tell myself that I can’t hold out forever_   
_I said there is no reason for my fear_   
_Cause I feel so secure when we’re together_   
_You give my life direction_   
_You make everything so clear_

Dean’s normal speaking voice was a few octaves below the optimal range for the song, but he had practiced singing REO Speedwagon songs in the past in a higher register.  Unlike when he had been a demon and didn’t care, the hunter could actually sing when he wanted to.  This was clearly one of those times he truly wanted to sing as well as possible, his entire being focused on these few minutes on stage.  Somehow, even with his deeper voice, it sounded pretty good.  The crowd in the bar had grown quite a bit larger since the karaoke had started, and some of them were sporadically cheering the hunter or singing along with him.  It was rare to find someone singing karaoke so well.

  
_And even as I wander_   
_I’m keeping you in sight_   
_You’re a candle in the window_   
_On a cold, dark winter’s night_   
_And I’m getting closer_   
_Than I ever thought I might_

Dean looked up as he moved into the chorus, his eyes finally meeting Cas’s at the table near the stage and offering him a faint smile.  The angel leaned forward, that reverent look in his eyes that Sam had seen so many times before, and he prayed that Dean would give the angel what he so desperately needed for once.  Some of the other patrons had caught sight of the raven-haired man in the blue flannel shirt staring desperately at the one on stage, many of them starting to work out the tension between them that this song might be trying to solve.

  
_And I can’t fight this feeling anymore_  
 _I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for_  
 _It’s time to bring this ship into the shore_  
 _And throw away the oars, forever_  
  
_Cause I can’t fight this feeling anymore_  
 _I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for_  
 _And if I have to crawl upon the floor_  
 _Come crashing through your door_  
 _Baby, I can’t fight this feeling anymore_

Dean smiled, really smiled, at Cas during the music before the next verse, his expression completely open in a way that Sam hadn’t seen in over a decade.  He wasn’t angry, or closed off, or depressed; he was just Dean, optimistic and happy like he had been before he went to Hell.  Cas had never seen this side of the hunter, but he knew that he would do anything he could to keep that joy in Dean’s eyes forever.

  
_My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you_  
 _I’ve been running round in circles in my mind_  
 _And it always seems that I’m following you, boy_  
 _Cause you take me to the places that alone I’d never find_  


Sam reached out to grab Cas’s arm at that word, _boy_ , knowing that Dean had changed it on purpose.  “Go on, Cas,” he whispered.  The angel looked over his shoulder at his friend, the hope in his eyes almost too much for Sam to bear.  “Trust me, Cas.  Go on.”

  
_And even as I wander_  
 _I’m keeping you in sight_  
 _You’re a candle in the window_  
 _On a cold, dark winter’s night_  
 _And I’m getting closer_  
 _Than I ever thought I might_  


Cas rose from the table as Dean reached the final chorus, their eyes meeting again as the angel reached the edge of the stage.  The hunter smiled and reached his hand out, helping Cas climb up as the crowd began to whistle in approval.  Sam had to admit, they made an absolutely adorable couple, especially with Cas dressed like a hunter and trying his best to mimic Dean’s body language.  Honestly, they looked like they had been lovers for years. 

  
_And I can’t fight this feeling anymore_  
 _I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for_  
 _It’s time to bring this ship into the shore_  
 _And throw away the oars, forever_  


Sam joined in with the other patrons to sing along to the final verse, Dean pulling Cas to his side and grinning at the swell of energy filling the room.  The angel didn’t sing, but he did smile and rest his head on the hunter’s shoulder, enjoying his voice and trying to absorb this moment.

  
_Cause I can’t fight this feeling anymore_   
_I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for_   
_And if I have to crawl upon the floor_   
_Come crashing through your door_   
_Baby, I can’t fight this feeling anymore._

Dean placed the mic back on the stand and turned to Cas, pulling him in for a gentle kiss as the crowd cheered wildly.  Cas gripped the edges of Dean’s flannel shirt tightly, melting into the kiss and closing his eyes.  Dean pulled away reluctantly, smiling at his angel and tightening his arm around Cas’s waist, leading him off the stage.  Jack and Sam were still standing and clapping, congratulating the pair as they returned to the table, the Nephilim hugging his father tightly. 

Dean stepped forward and accepted Sam’s hug, whispering “bitch” in his ear.  Sam laughed and returned with “jerk” before reclaiming his seat.

The taller hunter stared at his brother for a moment as he tried to think of the best way to ask if this thing with Cas was going to be official.  “So, Dean, after eating pie all of your life, how does cake taste?”

Cas looked at Sam with his “I don’t understand that reference” face, but Dean just chuckled and took Cas’s hand.  “Pretty damn good, to be honest.  A little bit like honey.”  He paused for a moment, squeezing the angel’s hand.  “I think I could learn to like cake quite a bit.”  Cas blushed as he finally understood what the hunter was talking about, Dean wrapping one arm around his waist and pulled their chairs together before reaching out to dig into the nachos.  “Was karaoke everything you hoped it would be, babe?”

Cas nodded and rested his head on Dean’s shoulder.  “More than I ever dared dream when Sam recommended this plan.  Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t thank me.  I am a terrible boyfriend.  You are in for a tough ride.”

“It can’t be any worse than the last nine years when you refused to acknowledge your feelings for me,” Cas countered, tilting his head so he could meet the hunter’s green eyes.

Dean chuckled at the angel’s outright sass, kissing his forehead briefly.  “Yeah, I deserved that.”  He looked across the table at his brother, raising his beer and tilting it toward Sam.  “Good call on the bar tonight.  I have thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

“It’s about damn time.”


End file.
